Apollo’s Sacred Fire

It was the last day of the Sacred War when I first lay eyes upon the Tagos. I learned that he had come with many horsemen under his command and – together with the hoplites of Cleisthenes – finally razed Crisa to rubble on the Earth. As the cursed polis burned, however, a band of the rebels somehow escaped and stormed up the winding road to Delphi, where they set about slaughtering the saints in their beds.

I was thirteen years old. The saint Timocrates, who escaped the fate of the others while he was tending the holy lantern in the Corycian Cave, snatched me from my chamber and took me for hiding to the secret place of dedication. I saw the fear in his eyes as he spoke. “I must protect the temple. You will remain here, still and silent as a statue, and pray that the God stays with us.”

Then he was gone, leaving me to cower like a new-born goat in the cold, dark place, my only comfort God’s eternal flame as I listened to the sounds of death and destruction crashing like cymbals on the ground above. I do not know how long I was there, only that I moved neither lip nor limb as instructed and hoped the God would protect us, seeing as all else had failed.

I occupied myself with continual prayers to the beloved Deity, King of Light, until I was deep in his hypnotic embrace and did not even notice that the sounds of death progressively ceased, though I knew from the changing light that the sun had risen. When, with an immense clattering of noise – blood splattered but gleaming – a great warrior entered into that sacred space, the first thought to enter my sleep-stilled head was that Apollo himself had come to claim me. So it was that I ran with outstretched palms and tears of joy, right into the arms of the Tagos, my hair flowing like golden rain behind me.

The saints who tutored me were not like this man, who came to me clothed with the sun. He was handsome as only the God could be, that I recall clearly. When I recognised his costume and saw the insignia of Apollo upon his breast I fell into a trance, as if I were already the high priestess. I do not remember if he said a word then, only that he looked at me with a strange light in his eyes as he carried me up to greet the new Dawn.

Love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

The Black Rite

‘Draws she near to bold Orion
Hoping, thus, to soothe his temper.
Points to one, the oldest Satyr,
He the muses loved to ride on.

‘“Bold Orion, please concede
That Crotus here – who lived and breathed –
Stands there now with arrows poised
To guard your captivated form.

‘“See as well the scales of justice,
Those with which the Lord Anubis
Weighed the souls of those departed,
Measured who should meet Osiris.

“Know thee not the queen of starlight
Calls to time: ‘Stand still, be halted’?
So shall she perform the black rite,
Bring to life the king through deep night?

‘Now Apollo speaks: “Your wisdom
Shines upon a hidden meaning;
You have placed him here with reason
On the font of deeper dreaming!

‘“Might he not recall the last life
When the stars by which you’ve bound him,
Shone upon Egyptian Pharaohs,
Helped them walk the sacred night, free?

“Queen of Egypt’s floodlit delta –
Isis – now returns, defensive.
Sirius picks up the pieces,
‘Fore the dawn can stun his senses –

Archaic Smile

‘“So I bid thee, Prince, repeat it,
Lest you’re tempted first to see her,
Then to cross the Styx with Charon.
In this case, she’d die forever….”

‘Now does Hermes turn. Archaic
Is his smile. Osiris sees this,
Sees within it Thoth the Ancient
Science Master, Time Atomic.

‘Looks he, now – the one – at Hermes,
Thinks into his mind the verdict,
Weighs the words, the vital message.
Mount Olympus quaked to hear it.

‘‘I shall not deny the Certain
Things, these things shall be conceded –
Such as sharing life-eternal –
This, I think, by law, is needed.

‘‘Through the gift of sacred music,
Orphic guides shall spring forever
In the minds and hearts of humans;
Ever flowing love around them.

Neutralisation of Binaries

You will understand the role played by the mantle enveloping the Hermit, when he employs his lamp for seeing clearly in particular problems, and when he employs his staff for probing his terrain. The ‘mantle’ is the presence at a deeper level of consciousness of the whole truth, and it is this which envelops and inspires all intellectual work relating to particular problems that is carried out by the conscious self with its lamp and staff.

It is this which gives the conscious self direction and style, and sees to it that each solution to each particular problem is in harmony with the whole. The whole truth lives at this deeper level, and is present there as the certainty of absolute faith, as the certainty of the imprint of truth from above.

The initiate is someone who knows everything. He is a person who bears the truth within a deeper level of his consciousness, not as an intellectual system, but rather as a level in his being, as a ‘mantle’ which envelops him. This truth-imprint manifests itself as unshakable certainty, ie, as faith in the sense of the voice of the presence of truth.

Truth attained through synthesis is present at a deeper level of consciousness than that of the consciousness of self. It is found in darkness. It is from this darkness that the rays of light of particular branches of knowledge are emitted, as a result of efforts aspiring to the “neutralisation of binaries” or the “solution of antinomies”.

These efforts are nothing other than excursions into the region of this deeper level of consciousness; they are contacts established with the inner darkness, which is full of revelations of truth.

The knowledge and power drawn from this dark and silent region of luminous certainty can be well described as the “gift of Perfect Night”, mentioned in Kore Kosmou, the sacred book of Hermes Trismegistus. The ‘Gift of Perfect Night’ manifests itself in consequence of such spiritual endeavours as are implied by the ‘neutralisation of binaries’ or the ‘solution of antinomies’. It is, one can say, the very essence of Hermeticism and constitutes at one and teh same time the method which is proper to it and the faculty of knowledge to the exercise of which its very existence is due.

Meditations on the Tarot, Letter IX, The Hermit

Cyrene

Apollo, lord of the wide quiver fair

And far-sped arrows, found her on a day

Wrestling unarmed against a lion bold,

And cried to Chiron: “Son of Philyra,

Come from thy sacred cavern and behold

What woman’s soul can dare!

This calm-browed girl essays a wondrous fight,

Her heart no toil can weaken, and her mind

No fear subdue. Born of what mortal kind

Is she, and stolen from what tribe of might,

Who haunts these glades of shadowy mountains wild?

Illimitable strength her actions prove….

Pindar, Ninth Pythian Ode, Apollo sets eyes on Cyrene

Kore Kosmou

Thou must be informed of the words of Hermes when he laid down his books.

“O sacred books,” he said, “of the Immortals, ye in whose pages my hand has recorded the remedies by which incorruptibility is conferred, remain for ever beyond the reach of destruction and of decay, invisible and concealed from all who frequent these regions, until the day shall come in which the ancient heaven shall bring forth instruments worthy of you, whom the Creator shall call souls.”

Having pronounced upon his books this invocation, he wrapped them in their coverings, returned into the sphere which belonged to him, and all remained hidden for a sufficient space.

Kore Kosmou, Hermes Trismegistus

Esoteric Wisdom of Altai

Between 1923 and 1928 Nicholas Roerich went on a series of travels throughout central Asia, accompanied by his son George. In 1926 – the same year that the Nazis sent their first expedition to Tibet – Roerich was also in that country. He spoke with many Lamas and other Tibetan occultists and mystics. They spoke of the imminent arrival of the Maitreya, the Buddhist Messiah, and imparted to Roerich the spiritual meaning of Altai.

It seems that, among other things, the chief mountain of the Altai range was regarded as the dwelling place of the gods. The Bear and Orion were singled out as being constellations associated with the esoteric wisdom of Altai. The seven stars were seen as the seven Wise Ones, and were also associated with the Mongol legend of Gesar, the Mongol Maitreya, despite his being a warrior rather than a sage. And Gesar was always linked in legend with the Tibetan stories of Shambhala.

Beluka, the principal mountain in the Altai range, has also been put forward as the possible origin of the legend of Mount Meru, abode of the gods. And from Tibet, from the Altai range, civilisation gradually began to spread outwards.

Both black and white magic are possible; one can always choose whether to follow the left or the right hand path. But magic in itself is morally neutral. Tibet held within itself both black and white magicians, and it was, of course, those initiates dedicated to the dark powers of evil who helped Hitler and the Nazis. But other powers existed in Tibet as well, and Roerich, among others, made contact with them.

Roerich himself said, in his book The Heart of Asia, that Shambhala was the fountain and crown of all true wisdom. ‘If you wish to understand Asia and to approach her as a welcome guest’, he wrote, ‘you must meet your host with the most sacred word – Shambhala.’ Roerich and his expedition were based in the Himalayas and had extensive contacts with wise men in Tibet. Roerich became a vehicle of transmission of a Mahatma Morya, who taught a system of Agni Yoga, based on the Kundalini power. Roerich states that a Lama passed through an underground passage in order to reach a sacred place. And the borders of the ‘hidden land’ were marked out carefully with occult symbols.

Michael Fitzgerald, Hitler’s Occult War

Making Magic

Here on earth, the conduction of magical procedures seems to require something more than natural rhythm alone, flowing constantly and unconsciously. The magician must also be in conjunction with the preternatural rhythm of parallel universes. Sekala, Niskala; seen and unseen. This tends to happen spontaneously, put into effect when the individual atomic spirit coincides naturally with the universally complete one. When it happens, the process of making of magic can be achieved. I don’t know how often it happens or precisely what the limitations are.

The optimum state for making magic might be an open and receptive frame of mind, together with sharp wits and spontaneous action. Perfect external conditions for might involve traveling at speed through a tunnel of trees with woodland on either side of the road and tree-tops that bend to touch one another, over a distance of about 50 yards, in order to ride the wave of the moment when ‘Day’ becomes ‘Night’. To travel through the eye of the needle of eternity at the speed of light. And this is more than just wishful thinking, friends; for one is sure that by such means did night arise from day on at least two occasions! The truth is there for all to see and the facts are clear: Day becomes night and night becomes day.

A strong musical element would, I imagine, contribute to the beauty of the moment, carrying invocations through the realm where power could bring forth a desired result. (It could be said that music has been, is, and will once more be, an extremely sympathetic catalyst for the performance of magic. Much that is truly magical might remain unfinished but for the vivifying effect of sacred music.

Location may also have a bearing on the efficacy of magical conduct. It is well known that certain places are considered ‘special’, because of their inherent natural or supernatural properties or special connotations. Some places have particular meaning only to individuals, because they contain strong memories or associations, while are others are special in their own right. These may be places of great natural beauty or with prominent natural features that combine to create a potent atmosphere.

The right blend of atmosphere can arouse strong feelings or impressions in living things. Traveling along ley lines may also increase one’s chances of being the magician. In one known case at least, spinning was the key. The means by which one traveled on one occasion through the gateway of perception, the infinite hair’s breadth between Earth and Heaven.

The Black Rite

Then the goddess steps up on it –
Disc of night, the lamp of dreamers –
As the steeds with hooves of onyx
Take to flight with sweet Selene.

‘Draws she near to bold Orion
Hoping, thus, to soothe his temper.
Points to one, the oldest Satyr,
He the muses loved to ride on.

‘“Bold Orion, please concede
That Crotus, here, who lived and breathed,
Stands there now with arrows poised
To guard your captivated form.

‘“See, as well, the scales of justice,
Those with which the Lord Anubis
Weighed the mass of souls departed,
Measured who should meet Osiris.

“Know thee not the queen of starlight
Calls to time: ‘Stand still, be halted’?
So shall she perform the black rite;
Bring to life the king through deep night?

‘Now Apollo speaks: “Your wisdom
Shines upon a hidden meaning;
You have placed him here with reason
On the font of deeper dreaming!

‘“Might he not recall the last life
When the stars by which you’ve bound him,
Shone upon Egyptian Pharaohs,
Helped them walk the sacred night, free?

‘Then discern the gods, goddesses
That the one so named, ‘Orion,’
Calls to mind his ancient history,
Sees the wheels of time that move on.

‘‘Here’s the truth.’ He thinks in silence:
‘Now I comprehend my story.
Memories of the tears of Isis
Come and thus reveal my glory.